A blind eye to twists and turns
by Ciule
Summary: After years of marriage Abby struggles with her suspicions that Henry might be her brother. But who would be so twisted as to marry his own sister?


**A/N:** I just watched Harper's Island again for the first time in years. This was a huge obsession for me when the show came out. Rereading both my own and other people's fanfics I felt that I had one more story to tell, even though this is an almost dead fandom. I wanted to show what happened between Abby and Henry after he got his «happily ever after» in my story «Only» and its companion «Don't go». How much would Abby keep a blind eye to during life with Henry?

 **A blind eye to twists and turns**

 _The kids were growing up so fast_ , he thought. Charlie had just turned thirteen years old, and Jenny was eleven. It was almost unbelievable that the events of Harper's island had happened fourteen years ago. The memories were still fresh, and still it excited him to think about how he had succeeded with his plan. Everyone dead and Abby his wife, just like it was supposed to be. But for now, the important thing was to still the kids' curiosity and to keep Abby out of hysterics.

«But the documentary said that Wakefield's son was never found», Jenny protested. «The DNA tests said that Sully wasn't his son, so why would he join in with Wakefield to kill all those people? It doesn't make sense!» Her expression was eager and her big, dark eyes were questioning them. _Challenging him._

He felt uneasy, seeing as his daughter had come a little too close to the truth. In his eyes, there was any number of reasons why he and Abby had chosen not to participate in the documentary, but to him this ranked as number one. _What if they had requested a DNA sample from him?_ He shuddered by the thought.

Charlie chimed in, irritated that his little sister had been the first to spot this, saying: «It seems strange to me too, because Sully had an easy life, hadn't he, Dad? A normal family, plenty of friends and enough money to get by. Why would he turn into a killer all of a sudden?» _Charlie, with the stocky and powerful build of his grandfather – that is, actually both of his grandfathers,_ he thought. _Though it seemed that his mindset was more like the sheriff than the murderer. Henry supposed he should be thankful for that._

He answered, the lie coming easily to his lips just as it had for years: «It just shows that you never know. He was my best friend, my groomsman, and I would have trusted him with my life. Still he worked with Wakefield, killing all of our friends and family. He must have been a sociopath, though none of us knew.»

Taking a quick look at Abby to check how she was holding up, he noted that she was pale. _She wasn't comfortable at all with the discussion. But then, she never was. She shied away from everything reminding her of the murders. Thank God she had accepted the house on the island. Not being able to go there would have been a serious chink in his «happily ever after»._

Charlie replied: «But this just means that Wakefield's son is still out there. He could be anyone! A normal person like you, Dad!»

 _Ouch. That hurt. He loved his kids to distraction, but this was over the line._ Risking another peek at Abby he saw that her complexion was closer to green, now. _Will this bring back everything that happened after their little son JD died?_

She had nursed strong suspicions then, when the doctor told them that the cause of baby JDs sudden illness was a rare disease, usually seen only in inbred families. _But luckily she chose me – us, our family – over the truth,_ he thought. _She chose not to know then, but that didn't mean she had forgotten, and it most certainly didn't mean that she was comfortable with this discussion._

He shook his head at Charlie, saying: «He could be normal. But then again, he could be as crazy as his father. In that case, let's hope that he is safely locked up in jail.»

«But», Jenny said, «Wakefield told Mom he found him, didn't he? What if he was on the island, helping Wakefield, and Sully was framed, and Wakefield's son got away?» _Jenny, with such a bright mind. And perhaps with a streak of cruelty too, though she would never harm anyone physically, animal nor human. Verbally was an entirely different matter._

«Yeah», Charlie was excited: «what if he's still out there, killing people!»

Abby stood up, looking a little unsteady, saying: «Enough speculation, kids. This case was closed years ago. Maybe we shouldn't have allowed you to watch this so-called documentary.» Her eyes found Henry's, almost involuntary, and she looked away quickly – _too quickly –_ before she rushed out of the room.

The silence after she left lasted a few, uncomfortable seconds, before Henry said decisively: «No, most likely he was horrified to find out what kind of man his father was, and that's why he never came forward. Seriously kids, your mother is right. This discussion is over.»

xxx

He found her on the balcony. She clutched the railings, taking deep, almost sobbing breaths.

«Hey, Abby», he said, putting his arms around her. She wrestled herself free from his embrace, staring at him, her eyes seeming almost black in her pale, tear streaked face. _Oh no, this was bad, he could tell._

xxx

«Henry, I…aaah», she paused, before continuing: «I need some space right now.» She could see his face blanched, and his eyes become dark with pain. _Oh, it was horrible, hurting him like that. But she really couldn't handle his pain too, she had enough with her own._

Staring at his face as it was clouding over with something she could only describe as a terrible desperation, she wondered: _Could it really be? Was the love of her life her half-brother, the son of a homicidal maniac, and possibly an accomplice in killing their family and friends?_

He certainly didn't look anything like his parents or JD. Truth to be told, he looked more like… herself. A handsome, male version of herself. Dark hair and eyes… _Oh God, don't go there again, Abby,_ she told herself, feeling queasy. _Just don't._ _He doesn't look anything like Wakefield either, except maybe something about his… NO! Stop it! I am NOT married to my brother! I refuse to believe that Henry is a liar and maybe something much worse!_

She swallowed and closed her eyes – _this_ _won't do, I can't shut him out –_ and reached out her hands to him. «I'm sorry, Henry,» she said, «you know, this is hard for me. I understand that the kids need to know, but those speculations… I can't handle it.» She lifted her face, looking directly up into his eyes, before she whispered: «You know…. after little JDs death…»

He visibly twitched, quickly breaking the eye contact, before he roughly grasped her and pulled her hard into his arms. «Abby», he breathed into her hair, «surely you don't believe…that.»

She felt tears pooling in her eyes, but squared her shoulders, saying: «No Henry, I don't want to think about it.» Feeling him exhale, he relaxed his grip on her. _But deep down, she was convinced. She had seen it plainly on his face before little JD died. It was just that both all her love for him and her rational mind screamed no. She really didn't want to believe. Because why would anyone be so twisted as to marry his own sister? It was highly unlikely. That is, even exempting the insane notion that her kind, loving husband had helped Wakefield with the killing spree._

xxx

«Mom sure didn't like this,» Charlie said to Jenny.

«Nope, neither did Dad. Did you see his face? I think it's because it's true,» she said, her face beaming with excitement.

«What do you mean, what's true?» Her brother scrunched up his face, trying to follow her reasoning.

«I think it is Dad. He's Wakefield's son, and maybe he helped kill all those people!»

«That's stupid. But ok, for the sake of the argument. Why do you think it is so?»

«Because they refuse to tell us anything about it. Because Mom looked sick, and Dad was so angry when you said it could be him. He looked like he'd kill us!»

«It's a bit thin,» Charlie said skeptically. «Besides it's disgusting. They would be siblings! I don't wanna be inbred.»

«It is disgusting,» she agreed, «but think about it! It's kind of awesome to be the grandchildren of a really, really bad serial killer. Besides, not all inbred children are crazy or get sick, and dies, like little JD…» She stopped, clasping her mouth.

«Oh my God,» Charlie whispered, «you may be right. Holy fuck!»

«Don't swear, Charlie,» Jenny said automatically. She lowered her voice: «You know, if it _is_ true, Dad could kill us if he realizes that we know.»

«Yeah right,» Charlie scoffed. «As if he would ever harm us.»

«He killed his father, remember? Maybe more people too.»

Charlie nodded, slowly. «We need more evidence,» he said. «But I seriously don't think we should confront him or Mom.»

xxx

The kids were acting strangely. Hiding, whispering in corners, looking up the oddest things on the internet and reading, of all things, how-to-books on genealogy and medical books. He was really worried and a little angry. _What_ _were they doing, and why? Had this anything to do with their interest in Wakefield's child?_ None of them would tell when he asked. And he had a strong suspicion that he shouldn't involve Abby in this. Besides, she was distant these days, having uncharacteristically bursts of tempers, snapping at both him and the kids.

xxx

He had tried to take Abby out on a date, just the two of them, leaving the kids home alone, with lots of candy and cans of soda. But it had all backfired. She wasn't talkative, she stared at her shoes and wouldn't meet his eyes. She just picked at her food, and after an hour of getting no other answers but «yes, it's fine», he exploded.

Now, as he stood in the garden outside their house, he felt guilty and remorseful. It was a beautiful summer night, with stars above, and the flower beds that Abby loved to tend were in full bloom. But he couldn't take in the beauty around him.

She had fled in tears, saying she'd spend the night at a hotel, telling him to go to hell. _He should never have yelled at her. He shouldn't have grasped her arm like that, trying to drag her into the car with him. She'd be a long time forgiving him._ He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself before entering the house.

He could see the kids through the window, watching TV. Jenny was sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, and Charlie lounged on the sofa. _Clever Jenny, named after his fake grandma._ _Not because he really wanted to show respect to the woman who had pretended to be his gran, but because he wanted to, at all costs, avoid calling her Sarah as Abby had insisted. Gentle and stubborn Charlie, so thorough and accurate in all he did that he'd probably make a very good cop one day._ Henry shuddered a little by the thought.

 _But what on earth were they watching?_ They flipped through movies and scenes from tv-shows, all the while discussing animatedly.

He moved closer to the porch, and he could hear their voices through an open window.

«See Jenny? All inbred people in movies and TV-shows are insane, butt ugly and murderous,» Charlie said. «Look at this, it's called «Deliverance».» He switched to a new film, showing a banjo playing redneck outside a rundown house. Fast forwarding through scenes of violence, he said: «We've watched any number of films and shows now, and absolutely none depicts inbred people as normal. There's got to be something in it. No smoke without a fire, remember?»

«I'm still not convinced,» she answered, «it's only movies and pop culture. The medical books points otherwise. There's no reason for us not to be normal, even though our granddad was a serial killer.»

 _Oh God. They were researching inbred families? Wondering if they were inbred themselves? How had this come about? What to do?_

He stood still, for once totally at loss. He had never had a plan for how he would convince his kids that they weren't John Wakefield's grandchildren. Coming clean was absolutely out of the question. He needed to kill those speculations immediately.

Entering the house he said: «Hey kids, I heard you through the windows. If you're talking secrets, it's a good thing to remember that sound carries through open doors and windows.» He smiled at them, though he seldom had felt less like smiling.

They scrambled up, looking embarrassed – and a little scared? _No, they weren't scared of him, were they? This was worse than he had thought._

«We were just… aaaah….», Charlie started, beet red in his face, and Jenny finished the sentence with «…speculating, you know, we played with the idea!» She smiled too, but looked anxiously at him.

Charlie continued: «You know, we're such a boring family – so normal! So it was just fun to go with this idea…»

«It's quite a serious idea to play with,» he said, sitting down in an armchair. Leaning his elbows on his knees, and steeping his hands to support his chin, he looked at his kids. _Inquisitive, stubborn little bastards. Too much time and way too much imagination. Boring, normal family? If they only knew._ He smiled inwardly, but kept his face grave. _Let's see who's the best weaver of tales and arguments in this family._

Jenny had a worried frown on her face, saying: «It was just a game, Dad. Nothing more.»

«Don't you think that an idea like this is quite offensive both to me and your mother? We almost died at Harper's Island at the hands of Wakefield, and then the two of you comes along and decides that we're siblings. Actually,» he tried to work himself into a semblance of righteous fury, «you are playing with an idea that I'm the son of a mass murderer, that I knew this all along and still married your mother. Do you think she was in on this too, or is it just me who's the crazy pervert?»

«No, no», Charlie said hurriedly, «we didn't believe she knew about it."

«So it is just me? Do you also think I helped Wakefield in the killings? What the hell did I do to deserve this?» He looked sternly at the kids.

«No, not really, Dad,» Jenny said, her bottom lip quivering a little. «We just thought that you and Mom reacted so weird when we talked about the documentary, and then we thought of baby JD and his illness, and then we looked up some medical stuff…»

He almost fell out of the chair by surprise. _They looked up baby JDs illness? God, his kids were smart._ Feeling a strong mix of pride and anger, he resented that he had to lie to his kids. _After all, he had been pissed to no end when he learned how his so-called family had lied to him._ Still he rose from the chair, saying: «It should be needless to say, but I want the two of you to know this, once and for all: I am _NOT_ John Wakefield's son. I do _NOT_ kill people. I did _NOT_ marry my sister. The two of you are _NOT_ inbred. If the truth isn't exciting enough for you, I suggest that you start writing crime novels. But you are not going to insult me and your mother by further speculations. Especially not your mother! The truth has caused her enough problems without the two of you adding crackbrained theories to her life. Do you hear me!»

«Yes Dad,» they both said meekly. Charlie hung his head in shame, saying: «I'm really sorry, I didn't think about it that way. We never meant to hurt you and Mom.» But he caught Jenny giving him a quick, defiant look between her long, dark tresses.

xxx

The next day Abby came home. The bruises on her arm were already fading, the explanations and apologies were awkward, but the make up sex was great.

 _He just loved it when she'd let him be rough with her. He'd never hurt Abby for real, never in a lifetime, but still it excited him to show her a glimpse of his dark side, letting some of his bottled up violence shine through. But the best part was that she accepted it and even enjoyed it._

xxx

They had gotten to the part where they hugged, telling each other that they were sorry and still in love, when he took a fistful of her hair and yanked it, a little experimentally. Looking intently at her, he pulled her head back in an uncomfortable position, and shoved her hard, bending her backwards over the table. _Oh yes,_ Abby thought, _this might be just what I need right now._ Still she pushed back at him, trying to keep him off her, but to no avail.

xxx

After their son JD died, for a long time it was difficult for her to have sex with him. It was almost as if she forced herself to make love to him. She felt like she should make an effort to keep him happy, and at the same time she wanted to feel desire again – but she just couldn't make herself because she was disgusted by the possibility of them being siblings. Crying in his arms after one of many attempts, she suddenly struck upon a solution. _What if she didn't have to decide? What if he just … took what he wanted, and forced her, sort of? Then she could just play along, not worrying about whether it was right or wrong._ So she told him.

He looked at her, a little speculatively, saying: «If I get this right, you want me to dominate you, maybe with a little violence thrown in?»

«Yes,» she said. «Not too much violence, but just enough so that I don't feel that I have a choice. You need to be in control.»

«I can do that,» he said with certainty in his voice.

She shivered a little, thinking: _And that's why he scares me, sometimes. The idea of violence, of forcing people just doesn't bother him. At times it's almost like he is a different person._

«But I need to know where you will draw the line», he continued. «I don't want to hurt you for real. We need a safe word you can use if you want me to stop.»

 _A safe word, something to make him stop?_ She said the first thing that came to mind. «Wakefield's son.»

The look in his eyes became so intense, she stopped breathing for a moment. _She had never felt more like prey in her life, being caught by a large and dangerous predator._

«Abby, that's not a safe word», he said gravely.

She took a deep breath and felt like giggling hysterically – _like I just escaped from the claws of a tiger!_ Her answer came out a little flippantly: «It'll make you stop!»

«We need something else», he said, clearly irritated. «I don't even want you to think about that! Let's just use … the Cannery, if you absolutely want to remind us about the past. Then there are some good memories among the nightmares too.»

«Ok,» she said, adding: «I'm sorry. That was uncalled for.»

He smiled at her. «You know, you could have went with chair, sofa, red, blue or anything. Why on earth would you suggest something like that? I swear, sometimes I don't understand you at all. You are a total mystery to me.»

 _His grin was so infectious. That's one reason why she loved him, he could turn her mood in an instant just by smiling at her._

xxx

And here she was, bent backwards over the table, while he ripped open her shirt. She clawed at him, trying to get his hands off her, but he grasped both her wrists and wrenched her arms over her head. She fought with all her strength, trying too simultaneously to wriggle her body away from him, but he held her wrists easily with one of his hands, his eyes glittering dangerously at her. His other hand wormed its way up her skirt, squeezing her ass for a moment before moving on under her panties.

«No!», she tried to yell, but his mouth closed on hers and cut the sound, both his tongue and fingers forcing entry. He bit her lips, drawing blood, and his hand stroked her center down there. She felt her eyes roll up in her head, and gasped. _No, she wouldn't let him, oh it was so good…_ He tore down his pants and entered her roughly, still keeping her hands over her head so that her back was arched uncomfortably on the table. With a feral grin he gripped her throat with his other hand, restricting her breathing. _The thrill of him controlling her like that pushed her almost over the edge, she was_ _drowning in the darkness of his eyes._ «You do as I say,» his voice growled in her ear, «you belong to me.» Letting go of her throat, he yanked her hair again. «I'll never let you go, Abby,» he grunted. _She fell into her orgasm with hoarse sobs._

xxx

He felt relaxed and content, nestling into her, smiling a little by the memory of her moaning his name. _And how good it felt when she came, squeezing him rhythmically, so good that he lost control himself and…_ His reverie was broken when she suddenly asked him: «When did you start loving me?»

He froze. _What now? He had thought the storm had blown over, but clearly there was more to come. What to say?  
_ Buying time, he replied: «What do you mean? I have loved you since forever. Since we were kids.»

«You know what I mean,» she said, «When did you realize that you loved me, as in romantic love?».

 _What would be the best answer?_ He obviously couldn't tell her the truth, which strictly speaking was what he had just said – _forever_ – because that would be totally inappropriate. Their relationship rested on the fact that she believed they fell in love after the murders. But he really didn't like to lie to her, and besides their relationship had developed rather fast after the killings. Much too fast, in the eyes of some. And he had confessed his love for her way too early in the process, almost scaring her.

«I don't know,» he said slowly, testing a new explanation. «Maybe for a long time, it was just that I never realized it before Trish died.» He could feel her looking at him, and he tried to look pensive – _not at all nervous._

«That long,» she said curtly. He adamantly kept his eyes away from her, and said: «I think it is best to describe it as foreground and background of a picture. Trish was more in the foreground, but you were always there. When she died, all I had was you, and I realized that I loved you. Maybe it was just a natural stress reaction that we both needed to feel alive and loved after what happened, but our relationship wouldn't have felt so right so soon if it wasn't true love.» _Most women would have been furious to be described as «background», but it was better than the truth. Would she buy it?_ He risked a glance at her, and could see that she was mulling it over.

«But did you know, or is this something you found out afterwards?» she asked. «When did you know?»

He sighed, asking: «Why is this important now, Abby? You know I love you. Why does it matter when it started?»

«I'm just trying to figure something out,» she said. _Was she trying to find a motive for him to help Wakefield? No, it couldn't be that. Surely not._

«Abby, I solemnly swear that I didn't go about planning to marry Trish knowing that I loved you more. This was definitively something I understood after it all happened, not something I realized before.» _There. Better to lie to her than to leave her to suspicions and worry._

«Ok,» she said slowly, looking searchingly at him. _Damn. She didn't buy it, she spotted the lie._

xxx

 _What was best – or worst alternative?_ She really didn't know. If he had met Wakefield and been told that he was her brother before the murders, what would be more perverse? To fall in love with her afterwards, or having been in love with her before finding out? She really didn't know. But from the way he had answered she rather thought that he had known for a long time that he loved her.

 _Still, he was marrying Trish. But wouldn't that also be the right thing to do if he had known that they were siblings? Because no sane man would want to marry his sister… There it was again. And this could be a motive for helping Wakefield. No! Stop it,_ she told herself again. _He might be my brother, but I know for sure that he would never harm anyone. That wasn't her Henry. At least, not hurting anyone in a serious way._

She had told herself that she didn't want to know, and that she didn't want to believe. But it was difficult to control her thoughts. She slept badly, waking from dreams she would rather not remember, and her temper slipped with the kids too often. Henry was clearly worried, but she told him it was nothing, refusing to tell him. He got frustrated and irritable too, and both Charlie and Jenny picked up on their mood.

Abby decided that she needed an answer, consequences be damned. So she picked a hair from his head one day she ran her hands through his hair, kissing him in the kitchen. He didn't notice, but she smiled at him and went off to her writing desk. She put the hair in a small plastic bag, pulled out one of her own hairs and slipped it into another bag, before putting both bags in an envelope that she sent to a small firm called «Private DNA investigation». _There. Now all she had to do was to get by while she waited for the answer._

xxx

He wasn't really snooping, but her email was open on her computer. An email with the subject "Order confirmation: Sibling test". _What the hell?! He had to remove all threats._

xxx

«We're slaughtering this company,» he said to James and Bill. James was head of finances and Bill was head of communications in Henry's company. «It's a hostile takeover, and I want it to be done as quietly and quickly as possible. Can you keep a lid on this, Bill?»

«I'll try my best», Bill said. «There are some formalities of notifications, but there's no need to make more noise than necessary.»

«I really don't understand why,» James said. «What's in it for us, buying and shutting down this business? We'll actually lose a lot on this, though thankfully it's a small company. We don't even do health and medical investments, it's out of our line of business. This company is in no way a threat to us and our interests. Can you explain this to me, Henry?»

Henry sighed. _James always asked questions, because he was a smart guy. That's why he had hired him in the first place. But he couldn't give them a good reason without telling them too much. They were good people, and he really wanted to keep them both on his payroll and alive._ «You don't really need to know. This time it's a personal matter. I want it shut down as soon as possible, all files destroyed and employees scattered to different companies and jobs. That's how it's going to be this time.»

xxx

He came home early one day, thinking that he'd try to cheer Abby up by cooking a good dinner. Standing in the living room, looking out on the porch, he saw her sitting with an envelope in her lap. He could see the return address quite clearly, printed in bold, red letters: «Private DNA investigation». Tears were dripping from her face and onto the letter, but she was sitting quite still.

It felt as his heart stopped, and he couldn't breathe. _He had been so sure that he'd made it. The takeover was quick, and all the files were deleted in no time. Why had Abby still gotten a letter?_ He saw that it was still unopened, but he could hardly barge out and tear the letter from her hands. If she left him, all would be over. If she left him, there would be no reason to go on, and he couldn't stand the idea of not having her around. _Might as well kill himself. Might as well kill her too, and the kids to spare them the pain. His father was right, in the end, it would be better to kill everyone you loved instead risking to lose them._ Drowning himself in dark and bitter thoughts, he almost didn't notice: _  
_She tore up the letter. She didn't try read the bits and pieces, but rose from her chair with determination, walked through the garden and put the pieces into the waste.

 _Saved._ He felt giddy with relief, his legs too weak to carry him. He sat down on the floor, trying to get his bearings. _She had chosen him. Again. She had overcome her doubts and fears. He was the luckiest bastard in the world. For now. He couldn't risk even thinking about killing his family again._

xxx

«Yes?» The young, genetic engineer looked questioningly at him, answering the door to her home.

He smiled, feeling exhilarated. _To kill again._ «I'm from the company that bought your former employer,» he said. «We believe we have an interesting job offer that matches your background and research interests. May I come in?»

«Oh, sure!», she said, welcoming him in with a warm smile. She lived in an old building, with only one camera at the entrance – except that it had mysteriously shut down yesterday.

Inside, he smiled at the petite, pretty blonde, and started chatting about the non-existent job offer. _It had been easy, piecing the letter together, to find out the name of this young woman. From the letter it was obvious that she had felt sorry for her customers, spending her last hours as an employee by mailing test results to people just to give them answers._

Looking around in the apartment, he noted that true to his research, she lived alone. She also had a nice, big hook in the roof, in which a rather large lamp hung from. _Perfect._

«I'll make you some coffee before you can tell me all about it», she said, moving into the kitchen. _How gullible she was. Who came home to people offering them jobs, anyways?_

As she scrambled around in the kitchen, he switched off the light, closed the curtains, quickly removed the lamp and hung the noose on the hook. _Much better than hanging her from a wardrobe as was his original plan._

«Here comes coffee… But why is it dark in here, did the lights go out?» she said uncertainly, stopping in the doorway, setting the coffee tray down on a shelf.

«It really is very sad», he said, walking closer to her. «You were so depressed when you lost your job, that you ended up hanging yourself from the ceiling.» Seeing her eyes widen in shock, he quickly grabbed her and put a wad of tissues in her mouth to silence her, dragging her towards the noose. She was struggling, of course, but that was only to be expected. He quickly forced her up on a chair and fitted the noose, her struggles growing more frantic. But she didn't have a chance against his strength and experience.

It was glorious. A well-done suicide. Watching her legs kicking, her eyes bulging, her face turning blue and purplish, he felt exhilaration tingling up and down his spine. _And all this because of him, and for keeping his family together._ He felt whole, letting his true self show when he was killing. _Maybe he should do it more often. His self-imposed restriction to only kill once a year was perhaps a little harsh on himself._ _The planning was fun, of course, but the thrill was, after all, the next best thing in his life._

Private DNA Investigation was history, and the only person knowing the results from Abby Dunn's request of a DNA test for siblings was dead. If Abby wanted to do another DNA test, she would have to start all over again. _But he didn't think so: She would keep on putting a blind eye to the question that she already knew the answer to. That's how perfect his wife was. And the kids, well, they had moved on to new fields of interest. At least, he sincerely hoped so._

xxx

 _The end._


End file.
